Mind Of The Tyrant

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Although true love may come from just one pair
Be not afraid in times of lonely unseen pain of focus
As useless to survive as the soulless
Only the burned in burden we bear as time slides and slips
Forever open…

Appreciate
_plant life
For more
_magical things
may come of it...

In days drawn lead with grass tips green with fresh
How our oft forgot are forth in coming around so frozen
Even in our own friends’ once earthly deaths
Of forgone memory comes the crying and for their despair’s
Eternal oding…

I’d always pictured the North as a cloudy rainstorm,
snow-storming, lightning stricken farmland. A land of drawn shades which even
in the thickest of nights, could glow against curtains and into lamplights that
stood low and hung like the last of the homeless waiting for soup kitchen
portions of grub, remaining still in the hazy-eyed fluorescence. It was just a
setting sun that only guided down the darkness to the backs of garages and
barns, where many houses all faced in the same direction and couldn’t help much
but succumb to the most shadiness of an empire’s tribute that was as symbolic
in my mind. A brown, underground, and hearty, rock and dirt foundation let
through little green beyond that laying behind the soil’s moist nurture of
fallen seeds of which once would have been mighty trees that told stories and
knew of rich heights. They, though, like the fortitude of civilian life, out here,
could only begin to the wondrous climb to the sky that lead their destination
into devastated fate of a concealed coverage by the swooping canopies of waving
branches and leaves far overhead that had solidified the forests of the
Adirondacks. They were stunted and would break, thrashing at the brushing bush,
crackling their stump in hollow emphasis of more weakened efforts.

I’d also contemplated in awe, the disconnection from the
society that seemed to permeate from over our rainwater reflected horizons of
New York. The River Hudson rarely sent vessel of shipment or boatload to our
Bay, and that is one reason why, amongst superstitions and against the favoring
of commerce to commute as efficiently as possible to the desired location of
demand, we all call ourselves citizens of a fragile and thirsty America. We
were quenched only by advertised products, as we felt the limbo of a stage of
civilization that revolved around the socialness of everyone. The impossibility
of the modern human to withstand the call of the changes of progress was a
growing sensation of disbelief and frigid discomfort to us, but one that we
adapted to the same way as those shrubs and bushes did up North. But the once
bravely productive rail had only brought the freight for the last decades, and
the skies were filled with phantom lives, flying above us like ghosts, to those
of us tortured in the inhumane servitude of our own choices, rather than forces
of nature, whether industrial workings or construction, manual labor or
commercial service. These were dreams that flew up high, dreams that flew
across the Atlantic, and out of our daily minds that came with an air and
dignity that held us close into the metropolis as patrons to a future nobody
had time to check.

Except, as I knew was the case, we all really did know what
lay ahead for us. It was only certain that this flawless life would continue,
day by day. I had known of these certain consistencies in the lifespan of an
average American, but had only guessed, as youth has tendency to incline us
towards, that I would somehow forge forth and charge through the world without
noticing the slightest amount of hesitance.

i look into the mirror and see only the same cowardice that i see in everybody else. i despise my own image, as the frog must see blindly in a wild world of blind hatred. the alter-ego of a brain is to judge through the eyes of others, in idiotic comparison. constantly preparing blueprints and drafts of daily situation and detail circumstance, then, with the calmed approach due the labor, fall in pratfall of misfortune to reality. the longer we meditate and train our condition, the more we suffer of our perception. it's our misconception of the surroundings, the over-eager exaggeration, that costs. however, the very actual introspective process often will seek opposition in the form of any environmental input available through our internal focus as well as periphery. the very reason two people can fall in love, they can also propel each other infinite. the same is true of our own lives, as self-prophets have alluded. hating themselves and karma's return reciprocation of the downward spiral can become inescapable...

Monday, December 29, 2014

We,
as the living components of the current of time, are in a
constant confused contingency of the tangible dimensions. As
such, we have an acquired advertence to the senses of feeling, and do become
identities of a collection of memory. There are many things that separate
us from the exterior elements of life, (ie.
living bodies outside our own, perceptions, unified faith) but none
greater than us as specified units of manipulative acquisition. The
mental realm, then, is one that is a self-contained entity, through which we
explore existence. Existence is primarily the evolution and
evanescence of the material that we are consisted of, or the perpetual
cycle that returns us to the non-living. Mentality, therefore is the
collective result of maintenance of said acquisition, as well as the
independent and internal force which governs the active state of life.

Reality in which we
exist, encloses us, and separates the bodies of life with bodies of
non-living. All living things, in this way, are independent and
responsible for their own fate. In many more ways, though, are we
separated from each other, as different organisms. In death, for
instance, we all have the capability of dieing alone, without necessary
involvement of alternate organisms aside from prerequisite divine
destiny. If even a parasite finds it’s host's life to be spent before
it’s own, which not often happens, it can revitalize itself upon attachment to
a new host depending on it’s own actions. As well, in birth are we always
formed piece by piece to form a singular life form.

The one thing
that works to bind the living is the state of unconcious. Indeed, it
binds as an adhesive element to each working lifeform. Every lifeform,
while not necessarily inclined to survival through intuitive response to
conscious and active life, is at the least granted instinctive mentality.
Through this process, time allows life to metamorphisize and shift through
dimensional reality, and to acquire or avoid certain elements. This
means, then, that the unconcious behavior that we inherently convey to the
outside is the instinctive mental makeup of the perpetual outside world
with relation to us.

Conciously, on the other
hand, we make decisions made of our ability to intuitively predict outcomes of
memorized scenarios. This is in the contrast of unconcious
behavior. If in that we make decisions, consciously and unconsciously, whether
simultaneously, separately, or exclusively, with to which we are always
adhering to the natural observance of internal action, then it stands that
sequentially, we are always outbalanced in our experiences from the outside
world.

As an addendum, but by no means as an integrated or unified solution to the
thesis above: we are bound and trapped to the life which we are born into. The constant attachment throughout life, to
our own mentality, is our established universal role to which we will forever
be employed in commitment to the continuity of time.

One day, a new girl is brought into the world that
we ourselves have grown into. It is, as
always, a learning experience, and every day the girl discovers aspects of her surroundings
that are bright and new. The closer she
stays to her parents, the better and more protected her upbringing is, and the
further she strays, the more dangers arise.
For a while, all of the people she is introduced to are other infants,
with as much in common in the way of knowledge acquirement as expectable, and
other mothers and fathers whose purposes are the same, to shelter.

Then, as time continues on in the perpetual motion
that we all have come to understand or at least adhere to, the young girl
learns that things that are outside of her are different. She begins to understand that the physical
makeup of all of her contemporaries are remarkable and foreign. This is when she begins to question, “Who am
I?”

The basis of the idea that fear is an inescapable
human emotion is that everybody, even the most fearless of heroes, has an
underlying web of emotions that control their behavior. The admission, though, that emotion is a
reaction to environment is one that convolutes the situation further, except if
you look at the very fact that fear is an emotion based on pain rather than
happiness. This alone, limits the amount
of fear which should logically pass through ones emotional spectrum.

Back to the girl, whose teenage years are spent
spellbound by the gnawing question. “Who
am I?” The only consolation to the
constant confusion is that she can tell apart the things in life that which she
is not. In this way, she distances
herself from things that bring pain. If
the society she claims, for instance, publicizes that chicken skin causes fat,
and that being fat will deter boyfriends, and that without a boyfriend she may
be alone, or at the worst scenario “homeless”, she might stop eating chicken
skin. There is no limit to the
possibilities that could cause fear for her, and she isn’t going to stop her
inner analyzation process for anything.
She can’t, because it is impossible.

The process is simple, if something causes pain
once, it is immediately turned into a cognitive no-no. If broad assumptions are made to new or
foreign pieces of reality, than they will be made without second thought. A new girl at school becomes fodder for the
aristocracy of the inherent structure.

No demons propel us towards our nature as emotional
beings, only memories of what causes pain and happiness.

The importance of this comes into play in the late
20th century. Here, where we have World
Wars, immigration laws, and terrorism, all as secondary pieces of everyday
life, the memories become so fastpaced that often much is forgotten about the
individual. Good or bad?

In an age where internet keeps us connected more
than any other tool of communication, besides direct confrontation, “what is
the exact point of emphasis on individuality?”
we wonder. Diversity having been
forced on us through education and general exposure to the world around us,
along with acceptance for every one of our fellow citizens, we find ourselves
actually losing the individuality that seemed so important to the people behind
the system. Instead, what we find is a
numbed down culture, especially in America where violence on television and
movies is scoffed at rather than being taken seriously, as a relative point of
reference for the amount of violence and vulgarity that we actually had to have
possessed internally to create such forms of entertainment in the first place.

This isn’t about entertainment, but it is, and as
the girl grows older, she finds herself losing motivation to the spinning
torrent of a constantly changing world.
There were simpler times in human development, when a hunter’s catch was
the making of a good day. Now, a trip to
the grocery store with 100 dollars worth of purchases only leads to more tv
dinners being eaten in front of a tv. Is
it any surprise, that the young girl turned to drugs in our interim? That she lost her virginity young, but went
without bearing offspring for such a long time?

Meanwhile, as the world becomes more and more
solitarily designed for the individual’s complacency, the things that keep us
who we are gain personal levity.
Religion becomes a person’s entire life, and not just that they go to
church and pray everyday, but that they feel as though the religion is itself,
theirs. The politicians become vendetta
charged, with only a few platforms that they promise will become their sole
missions. Even those who intermingle
with the disattached, the drug induced, the hermits and outcasts of society,
get the feeling in their bones that they are living a purpose. The problem is, that we don’t live a purpose,
or one, but many. Multi tasking in the
recent years, for instance has risen in the general populations’
abilities. Isn’t this a way to do fewer
things, only once, and let the reciprocation take effect naturally?

The world becomes charged with these emotions, of
fear of being outdone, of fear of being left out, of not being themselves
perpetually, and strange things begin to happen. Terrorists, who feed off of the other’s fears
of these things, but indeed suffer greater of the same inflictions, begin to
congregate.

Our young woman dies in the World Trade
Centers. Her family purchases a
ribbon. A cousin joins the army a couple
of years later out of financial reasons, and life will move on.

But until when?

The human body itself, a conglomeration of different
ingredients has been under attack by foreign minerals and constituents of the
spread of different mixtures. The body
passes these ingredients down, generation to generation. We are now at a boiling point with
carcinogens and pollutants. As is the
environment around us losing to the wastefulness of humanity, as are our
individual bodies.

What happens next is anyone’s guess, and it has been
for quite some time. But if you have
ever played a guessing game, you know that enough hints will lead you to the
right answer evantually.

The silent weapons that attack us are more than meet
the eye even at the political level. We
are just fulfilling the fantasies set out by ancient peoples, by the industrial
revolution, and by current fundamentalists.
War isn’t around the corner, people, it’s already at place. Armageddon was in the 2000’s.

Fear in totality, is something that we can’t try to
fight or hide. But individuality may
just be covering our fears, and that is something that I’m afraid will have to
be changed. Acceptance, and complacency
versus war and terror. The war doesn’t
have to be fought, but it will be waged in our own minds.

The main differences between the male and female
genders in our civilized society are their approaches to communication.

In the male society, men are prone to outdo each
other in debates and arguments simply by getting louder. If a more dramatic and exaggerated debate is
made, the victor is usually the one with the more loud voice. Whether it is through leadership where “the
masses’ voice is heard,” or with a megaphone, generally we say that the man
with the stronger voice will win any debate.
ie. You can’t win a debate that you
can’t hear even yourself make.

In the female society, women rely more on physical
attributes which coincide more directly with internal processes such as thought
and intuition. The more beautiful woman
may not be the victor, but certainly has the “leg up” so to speak, as long as
her thoughts and actions coincide fluently.
ie. You can’t be a spokesperson if you
are not viewer-friendly.

The alpha female processes the males’ debates for
who vies for her special attention by simply drowning out the smaller voiced
and “less mattering opinions” of the weaker male. The alpha male, in turn, drowns out the daily
view of life as a hardship in turn for what he considers beauty or what is
beautified by progressive actions towards him.

In conclusion, if we are to make progress, we must
learn more importantly that the smaller voiced opinion is in actuality the more
valuable due to its need for significant and immediate change, as well as learn
to distinguish beauty from useful ability.

The English language is full of intricacies making it the most difficult
language to learn in the world.

Here and there, certain tendencies in the language
evolve to replace older traditions.

For example, in the old day, we used to use the word
'thus' a lot.
It has since been replaced by the newer word 'therefore'.

'There' is a strange word. It is very
ambiguous. Where is 'there'?

You won't know until you get 'there'.

The interesting thing is, the authors of the English
language kept it going.
They didn't stop with 'therefore', before they went on and tried out 'thereby',
'thereafter', 'therein', etc.

We could've stuck with 'thus'.

But to make it even more confusing, they went and
did the same thing with 'here'.
'Hereby', 'hereafter', 'heroin', etc.

Well, I'd like to point out that 'they're' 'hearing'
things.

What's the point of all these compound words? Is there any?

What makes it interesting is how even though we
thought 'thereafter' was just a longwinded way to say 'therefore', the
'hereafter' is so longwinded of a word that we'll all be dead by the time we
reach it.

I mean, you can't do any of this word-creation with
any other word.
But you can even combine the two words 'here' and 'there' and confuse the shit
out of everyone involved.

Here and there, I thereinbyafterfore think that i'm
just going to say something else.
If i can remember where I am, and who I'm talking to still.

As the rate of progress leans more and more on our
natural resources, and continuously eats away at an already dwindling supply,
the threat of an overlap in the ratio of science to supply increases
daily. With this in mind, and the facts in place that we will soon be
faced with an industrial collapse, what will be the destiny of humanity?

With this short exploratory essay, I will abide by
the notions that superstitions are unfactual. In this way, I hope I avoid
offending people with certain beliefs, and only slander at the devotion of
faith as an activity of the modern human, no more, no less. In other
words, the beliefs of religious faiths is not what concerns me, but their
operations do.

The immediate end of civilization is imminent, yet
we still have yet to make the drastic alterations to daily life that would
deter the situation. Some in the past have committed to themselves that
we will suffer global warming long before we actually run out of natural
resources, yet i propose that based off of common knowledge, that global
warming is already taking it's turns on the world ecosystem, that it will be
long and far off that global warming's threat causes damage that would be
dangerous to human existence. Instead, i think that it seems far more
likely that we will create a new social structure that adheres more ideally to
the laws of a dog eat dog world.

In the future, what awaits humanity? The clash
of the major religions has been set in time, with only a change of face in the
persecuted. Where Adolf Hitler began on Judaism, it seems as though
America has picked right up where he left off with Islam. The only
religion yet to see serious installment of holocaust is Christianity, but this
has little to do with what comes next. If anything, Islam, with it's vast
control over natural resources, stands to gain power within the short remaining
hours of humanity's symbiotic relationship with natural resources.
However, as we know from our conquest of the Middle East, Islam has little to
do with actual government of it's people, rather it is dependent on religion
for it's law.

With this information, the question is simple, what
will be the use of religion in a 'post-apocalyptic' world that seems so close
to unfolding? The final stages of war will be crucial in deciding this
change in socialized civilization.

It is unarguably noticeable that religion, itself,
is a useless organization. None of the benefits of organized religion
make any sense, with the knowledge that any other organization of non-profit
origins could make the same benefits with less grafting of it's constituents.
Can anyone make an argument for religion in a world where luxury is a foreign
concept, solely based off the idea that religion has singular positive effects
on an individual?

I would also hesitate to agree that many of
religion's positive effects, if not all, are to strengthen the
individual. Muslims, for example, would look at the positive effects of
kamikaze activists as solely representing their religion. Christian
donations, which seem like a good tax-deductible positive influence, do no more
than help pay the clergy and a limited amount of church-going activities, in a
grand outlook. When was the last time you heard of either religion
donating back in abundant amounts to fight poverty onwards? Soup kitchens
and food pantries aside, little is done by any monotheistic religion to combat
the impoverished worldwide. If there was an honest effort, we'd see
results. We haven't, in any sort of meaningful way.

Of course, these are more commentaries on
monotheistic religions. However, as it is obvious that other religions
exist to attempt to aid the human spirit, a question remains of wherein lies
the boundary between god and man? Polytheistic religions, seem to
definitely encompass a greater compassion for the individual, based on the acceptance
that the individual is merely a portion of his/her existence. Can the
same be said for monotheism? Quite possibly, yet the deitism inherent in
the structures of most monotheism can lead to an outbalance of worship.
It is a concern, that by the bi-polar worshipping of first god, than oneself,
than vice versa, in modern monotheism, that worship only leads to confusion
when tangled up with the existence of secondary deities. Christianity,
with contrite seclusion of Jesus Christ, yet preachings by numerous people,
Islam with Mohammed, and Judaism with texts and others. Where polytheism
strays from the beaten path isn't necessarily in it's separation of different
gods, but actually it's inclusion of irregular deitism. By irregular
deitism, i mean that by one, man is not alone on Earth, and by two, man alone
is balanced, yet not equal, with his counterparts in his/her world.

I foresee the world's apocalypse as being,
therefore, very different than that of biblical terms. Rather, I think of
the future as being one of a new symbiotic relationship, aside from the lost
resource of fuel, with the government and religious constructs that will become
new on Earth. Probably, we will lose all monotheistic faiths, in the next
century, is my proposal.

A better religion is not in question here. Any
type of archetypical religion is flawed by the individual, and no great truth
will ever be enough to sustain faith forever. But, with the collapse of
industry so close, my question is what will life be like reverting back to
simpler times of theism?

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Enlightenment for Jack Kerouac
by Twyll The ChyllTyrant
the original scroll is ALMOST as good as the published version, maybe in some ways better. both editions have the same basic content, but editing in the publication is better. found myself upset with certain parts being too long, like he knew he'd be edited so he might as well get the whole thought process down on paper, and then let someone take it apart eventually, "down the road"...
you've always
been sick
delicate blue
sky tree
no food
nowhere
religiously
the soul burns out the eyes
too much
secret sun
shield flying
The West
Roman Ear
Surreally
The monument
Is great
God
artistically fabulous
with hands
flowers aim at the crooked empire
straight to death
white eye criminals
Love little Island Blest
crawl with hatred in the street
roll Holy Fog from Jesus ballooning
Shrouds of puff over - the mysterious
East of Western Torment, Western Me
Humility
Beginning to see the light, outside the church -
The Negro boy & the White boy
Hand in hand - Sunday morning
delusion existence
not-two-ness, ie. deluded
trick
ripple
con train
gladness the Saint;
mating the bitter husband;
Love
Bath
rock space
space rock
Tub
Nothing is wrong
Something is right.
...

Thursday, July 31, 2014

I have seen three dead people in my life. First, my grandmother at age 14, and at her wake, I read a Funeral Montage poem I had written prior for class, in school. Second, down the street from me on Geddes near Park, a cardiac arrest across from the big church, a couple of years ago. Third, a heroin overdose in the backseat of a car I was riding in, this last year, where a man was resuscitated.
Three years ago, after moving out of Eastwood into the F-M district, I had my first taste of real crime and the oncoming heroin epidemic. I moved into a townhouse and soon broke up with my estranged painkiller-addicted ex-fiance` who had already sent me to the justice center for an overnight visit because of her physical abuse to me, when she had called 911 to report "domestic harassment" during a dispute over whether I would go to Taste of Syracuse, while my brother was in town from Albany. Fresh off of the new break-up I began a two or three month spat with alcoholism that lead to my introduction to a larger part of the population of my new area than I had initially planned. Meanwhile, in the same area, was a small group of guys that planned to pull a grand-scale heist of many of the local banks. Right around the corner from me, a credit union was soon robbed by an unknown person. Someone gave the cops my name and address, because they came to my doorstep and asked a few questions of me and my guests at the time, which included to see our wrists, because apparently the suspect had been suicidal at the time of the robberies, probably because of addiction to heroin. The guy ended up getting arrested when he tried to have a friend turn him over, trying to cash in on the reward money in addition to the several tens of thousands of dollars he managed to rob from banks.
Through a girlfriend at the time, while in that area, I met a young stripper who spent Independence Day with me the following year. Within two weeks of July 4th I received a phone call from EMT asking if I knew her or had been with her or had seen her recently that day, because she was dead, and they were trying to contact people while trying to revive her. I hadn't seen her for almost a week, so I was unable to help at all. She was overdosing on heroin, and survived after a few minutes without a pulse. She has now done that twice.
When I finally came back to the city to live, I had discovered that many of my old friends were suffering from the addiction. I lost contact with many people. One guy had gotten into a lot of trouble, though, as he had gotten addicted to prescription opiates after surgery. He ended up in rehabilitation on the west coast, but when he came back to New York, he got right back into the opiate scene. He ended up robbing a guy in an old group of friends that I used to associate with, for $45,000. He skipped town for a half year, and when he came back someone who hadn't been directly connected immediately contacted him to talk, and he agreed. They met at the apartment that the contact was renting, and when the guy was inside the contact slipped away and made a few phone calls. Within ten minutes, four men showed up at the house and first interrogated, then assaulted the addict, and then the crew of men went outside and broke into his car, and robbed back over 30 thousand dollars.

These are all true stories. I've never done heroin, but at age 15 I did try, on two separate occasions, red/black rock and white opium. My review is; it sucked, and although I didn't spend money, it was clearly not worth my life, nor even any further time with the specific drugs. But they are definitely all still addiction-causing drugs that worldwide have been and are still becoming a huge epidemic. I've known five people who have died off heroin in the last two years, not personally, but through mutual acquaintance. Plus there are the prescription-addicts, who don't even realize that they are doing a different derivative of the same drug as heroin. I, myself, have overdosed, and know how terrible it is. When I was 17, and a senior in high school, I overdosed on a recalled prescription for adderall, which is scientifically four mixed types of speed, and is basically crystal meth. I suffered mild amnesia symptoms for half a decade, and continue to struggle with high-level anxiety which effects my mood and health.

Marijuana is an anesthetic hallucinogenic and is not a normal drug, which are typically something you need a laboratory to create. There is also evidence that marijuana's medicinal purposes are vast and expansive to include cancer treatment, pain-regulation, and mood stimulant. I disagree with outlawing marijuana, tobacco, or alcohol. But I think that it's time that we look again at our healthcare system in America, and pay attention to the phrase "epidemic" when it comes to drug addictions and abuse. Society needs to change with the times, before the entire nation becomes institutionalized under martial law run by dictatorship, an unavoidable consequence for the loss of focus by the general public in it's own self-maintenance and education of real leaders, not followers.

Thursday, July 24, 2014

this is my idea for a videogame pitch to Blizzard videogames for a new online multiplayer first person shooter. all players get one weapon, a shotgun with infinite ammo, and melee attacks, deathmatch style. at the start of the game, you choose maps for four timezones around the world that are simulated for weather effects. the countries would be asia, australia, america, and africa, but the maps are customized for each player who then adds the map to an existing worldmap where the rest of the players are allowed to set up their own randomly customized map. the customization comes into play with the fact that all maps are basically fundamentally the same, all are set in giant swamps, but customized by location of trees that are dispersed three at a time in the map. tied to each of the trees are a zombie on a chain. if you get shot, you are respawned in home map. but if a zombie eats you, you are allowed to be a free-roaming zombie that can attack anyone until the end of the 24-hour timezone day, in order to be allowed to be executed by another player and then respawned. if the free-roaming zombie is executed without catching another player he has an extended waiting period before respawning. movement through the swamp maps is normal, except that you can duck beneath the surface indefinitely with a reed that sticks out of the water, at which point you cannot move until you get back up. there are also random reed placements, and random small eye-level hill placements on each map. if the player chooses to, he can spawn himself randomly on any timezone worldmap with use of a random guest house that appears on a random map. the house is then the respawn point, and you can walk right out the front door, but if you re-enter a guest house you have only 20 seconds to get back off the property or basement snakes will start swarming from the basement doors who are unstoppable and cause you to die and respawn after an extended waiting period. each 24 hour day resets zombie inhabitants in each timezone in a quarter day interval. there is also changes in weather in every quarter day. your killscore affects your runspeed in the following quarter, for a maximum of three in a row consecutively, after which you are reset. leaving a timezone to inhabit another map resets runspeed as well. your only other mode of killing an opponent is to set one of four traps on any map you enter, but you only get one of each trap. one is a bear trap, set on the bottom of the swamp, one is a water mine that floats on top of the water but flashes when set. one is a pin line grenade that you can attach to any of the reeds. and one is c4 detonator that can only be set on a hill. you can also switch between slugs and buckshot any time. there are also alligators that will swim around from outside the edges of the worldmap and prey on you if they see you, at which point you are respawned. you can lose up to one limb and live, alligators take one hit, zombies take two shots, or one to the head. there is also constant random airstrikes and nearby nuclear attacks during the daylight hours for localized flash effects, which will sporadically gain in intensity. cool.

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Longing like winter’s thunder
If I could think of other things
And never you
I’d think of your opposite
The sun and the moon
If you were not my forever
Friendships lasted
I’d think of every facet
I’d flow out of your rivers
If you were as high as the dunes
Future wishes couldn't be wiser
I think I’d fall off the moon
If I’d only remember
The summer’s lovers

Saturday, May 10, 2014

a vigilante burned to death during a raid on a mafia organization in charge of human trafficking to the illuminati is resurrected when he falls through a destroyed boat dock into the ocean. he is a zombie who wraps his whole body in bandages and has lost his left eye and both ears. he wears clothes like a hooded sweatshirt and black jeans and leather gloves and boots all the time. his powers are that he has a gun inside his body, that he can reload by eating bullets, and shoot from inside himself. he also has a fake left eye that can see pretty much anything within a five mile radius whether behind walls or invisible. his real superpower is that he can teleport any piece of his body besides his still-intact 'good eye', within a radius of it, and only to where he can visually see, and he also has telepathy. this includes being able to teleport the gun, or just a piece of an arm, or, his other 'cyborg' eye. when he leaves his eye behind, it becomes unprotected, and will fall to the ground. also, there's a plot-twist catch to his power, which is that whatever piece of body he teleports has to go through another identical dimension that is inhabited by vicious beasts. the beasts from the other dimension can attack his body parts that are being teleported through at any time, yet remain invisible in our world, and also have to chase him in a parallel universe, where they are actually alive on a moon to a planet that is just like earth, aside from that it cannot be seen by humans at all. our planet shares a similar orbit to this extra-dimensional moon, but at certain times of the day, week, month, and year, he can transport himself without attack. to literally move into a new location he has to carry his eye to the area. unless his eye is destroyed he will survive forever, by creating limbs with machinery, and replacing pieces of body. he eventually has lazers in his cyborg eye, and can fly, too. his favorite way to kill somebody ends up being lazering out both of their eyes and shooting them up in the back of the neck, simultaneously. he ends up also in command of a team of scientist-militiamen in charge of defending his eye and trying to thwart the inter-dimensional beasts, who end up breaking free because of the experiments and killing him.

Tuesday, May 06, 2014

/
/
/
/
Memory has no quota
Service, right
Dog with imagination: flaw for wolf.
/
"quote"
/
At the touch love
everyone becomes a poet.
/
Maybe some more are okay,
we are predators of body language,
Your just WRONG.
/
I pray you'll get to one of those again...
/
it's trippy isn't it?
i didn't even begin ending,
yet pretended finish.
/
U MY Cruithne
My dreams may vanish
as stars collide
Lillith divide
and dozens more to decide.
30 15 3 5 1 03
/
Faith unto the mind,
for it will outlast ours.
Fun for the liar,
a fool in time.
/
I watch
your eyes
as they see mine
/
my reflection
again
illusions in
two blue oceans
on both sides
mine flood over
to yours
/
watery watered waterfalls
/
I think of
a tear
but none
just two
as much
no more
no less
when I see
/
potential energy
waiting to be released
from two eyes
on me
Linear thoughts
/
One frame of mind
compulsive incompatible
/
Who am I?
/
Broken mentality
And man's test of one mind
/
dirt grit
Becomes what I am?
/
The truth goes untold
/
But today
I want only to be ME
Thus tomorrow I will live in fear
/
The pencil's mind becomes
my own eraser
/
blinded deafened afraid
/
Please say hope
/
We area all addicts of something
How many addictions we have
Is a measure of sanity
/
Everything means something
The more we have to look for meanings
Is normalcy
/
If the world may end tomorrow
/
Or it may end any other day
/
The measure of when the world will end
Is a measure of one's sanity
/
/
A tapping foot blinks
A tradition is broken
/
Runaway cars on the overpass
/
A blazing fire
families marshmallow toast sticks
/
Protect ya neck
/
I listen to the silence
and hear the unlistened
Surge of brain energy
/
Where am I going?
/
Punching wind swiftly
Crunching bones
of ghosts
/
Unordinary day
/
Mountain air
rushing into my lungs
/
/
legs crossed sit
buddhist meditate
essence butterfly effect
in my gut
want to say
i love who i how i love
/
/
solemn silent solitude
my pen still
to a presence
of the world
/
/
/
the story of two intertwined hearts
speaking to each other in dance
and over plans
act like
/
god must have packed your teeth
unjustly inside your smile
/
all i want is to
touch my lips
when we kiss
/
yet even beneath these dark lime lights
mug line
spots
/
the shy painter's last expression
/
If I had known
I never would have come to know
/
It would be a physical impossibility
/
I always am to you
me in reality
/
proximity to infinity
love even death
true living dead
arise in mind
/
at the job i like
/
will i live on?
past becoming eternal present
our future is not our fate
/
create love
/
can i?
for one
the is
nonexistent soul
Prodigal son
-like heir,
like kin
return to voyage
boy of new age
/
stand motionless
a stop
an end without means
/
names monikers immobilized brash brass jazzy trumpet
self-enveloped in letter
suspicious evolution
/
maimed mail fee
postage to sender
/
Oh deliverer
deliverance of drunken scribblings
/
Gentle replies
unlawful questions
/
Rite, amendment
/
/
slowing down
false breath
squezing heart
peaceful rage
increasing dimension
unstable wisdom
reflective thought
almost enough
burned out
/
back to normal
/
/
hurry hurry
naptime children on their cots
day-dreaming sailboats
witches beat
/
leverage of a good joke
/
collect calls
mom and dad
/
inject rejected
respect
inflected reflex
/
minor thing
bring bright up
/
immersed in biblical blood
shovel out hearts
retain life
/
some doves lifted us
never touching the sky
/
falling
gliding currents
falling
/
alas alpha male
allowed allegiance, alleviated allures
/
broaden stretch horizons
in all directions
/
circle
orb
/
time
man
/
one
/
/
/
the games we play
/
/
these crumpled pages of life
read by no one
I sacrifice
/
this should be
read by no one
but it will be
/
and I will become undone
only a little
/
I silently request death
over unconscious life
today
/
I have died already
/
a woman speaks to me
about the past
the past of the world
and I let it pass
/
my father
my blood
/
speak to me about the future
what you've seen
/
and I will slowly forget
/
these crumpled pages of life
that are read by no one
I burn
/
remember
everything is a lie
/
sky to ocean
fish fly birds swim
/
sing cry
laugh cry
weep life
/
await death
patience
/
I will belong
finally
/
life's ashes
belong to memory
/
time keeps beating
long after hearts
/
the only truth
/
.
/
/
/
/
/
- 'Poetry' by Twyll The ChyllTyrant

Friday, May 02, 2014

Hell is a familiar neighborhood home
wherein you were locked inside
a room.
with the windows all boarded up.
locks and chains on doorknobs.
bolts.

You are surrounded by five cradles
holding a sleeping baby in each one.
and candles lit and candles relighting.
At different periods of time,
the babies will cry, but stop crying
when you approach one.
hanging, hanging, hanging and dieing.
They will not all stop crying
until you are fallen sleep.

it's not a nightmare, it is surreality.

You will stay in this house
until you die or hushed in fell,
at which point you pass
to consecutive continuous stages
of afterlife after hell,
into which you are reborn
in your same body.

again.

In the middle of this room
that you will become entrapped in,
is a dead man hanging and dangling
from his neck by a ceiling fan.
and the ceiling fan is on.
That's just what everyone
goes through to get reincarnated.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Violet comes to understand that there is a developing military campaign in the classified part of her Utopian government controlled by a clone army. Walking in to work and organizing papers and then finally sitting down on her cubicle's computer, she is giving a monologue to the audience about the virus that totally eradicated the human race by infecting the nervous system. If someone who had been exposed to the virus, which had been %100 of humanity at one point, felt any significant kind of emotion, they immediately became enraged to the point of a heart attack. To suppress any accidental killing of each other, the clone army had been established by a computer generated task force assigned by the United Pandora government to destroy any human capable of having extreme emotions. People learned to survive by not feeling so much as following instinct and intuition and orders by the government. The clone army could detect the emotion easier than normal humans because of genetic deficiencies in their mental chemistry. They needed these receptors, however, to create long term memories, for which they had been successful at keeping a steady balanced population of normal human beings to make up for in the government. As Violet sits down on her computer she begins by receiving a voice-call through an implanted telecommunication chip. The sounds of two men picking up the phone is heard as she begins typing with a transparency of not speaking while the other two voices relay to each other the necessity to bring more water-control to a dam in part of the city. The two men comment on the different shipping methods of supplies to build new control fields for the electrical refinement process when one mentions the nearby location of another dam that might be used to store certain amounts of the shipment. The other man tells him that it would be impossible to use because of the other shipments being made there for use in the "Secret Project." The first man replies that he already was aware of the conflict in spaces, but that the outside of the dam could be used as a type of temporary shelter for the supplies if they built an exterior building which could be torn down easily to avoid conflict with building permits. The second man once again replies that time-limitations may be too short for this idea. They agree to talk later, and get off the phone. Violet raises her hand and a superior worker comes to relieve her as she gets out of the cubicle and starts to walk over to a water cooler. When she picks up a cup another coworker, and another superior coworker walk onstage. The superior coworker asks Violet how she is feeling that day, to which she responds that she's been feeling poor about the living conditions at home. The coworker mentions the water supplies and Violet responds that she is suffering from dehydration during the night. The superior worker asks Violet if she'd like to come over to his home to share his water after work, and invites her to stay and watch a movie with him. The coworker mentions a few titles of future cinema and Violet says that her mind is elsewhere, actually, that day and mentions the conversation she had just been transcribing. The superior asks what she thinks the conversation means, and Violet begins telling them how she thought it was interesting that there seemed to be secret space programs in the local government. The supervisor of the company walks onstage and interrupts the conversation asking Violet to repeat what she had just been saying to the coworkers verbatim, which Violet does. The supervisor then calls security. The superior starts to defend Violet's innocence to the supervisor, as Pink & Blue show up and the coworker starts to walk away. The Pink & Blue tell the coworker that his freedom has been destroyed and kill him. The supervisor and superior begin escorting Violet offstage as Pink & Blue remove the body.

Scene 2

Wyatt and Evan are outside of the two walking tubes that form the sidewalks along a road. They are picking trash off of the street and putting it into bags they are carrying. Evan begins talking about a school project he had been assigned for his graduate program involving how to work on improvements for the water-line system in Utopia. Wyatt refers to the need to concentrate the water supply into the impoverished areas of the community where there was always a high crime rate and emotional unrest. Evan seems to agree but objects to point out the inherent needs of people like their friend Matthew who worked in high end electronic development and manufacturing. Evan also seems to wonder if Matthew will get the promotion in his company to a higher income. Wyatt replies that he hopes that he does get the promotion but wonders about the effect that his technical presence would mean for the development of more system monitoring equipment for the Pink & Blue reproductive pods. At that moment, a pod swings through the stage levitating in the air. Wyatt continues how intrusive it was to have babies that were intellectually inadequate to pass judgment on any actions of the community be the basis of the crime monitoring system. He says that it could just as easily have been human babies rather than clones that do the monitoring. Suddenly patrolling clones interrupt the scene with several following human schoolchildren who are on a field trip to study the modern transit system. The clones refer to Wyatt and Evan as poverty level citizens, which causes Wyatt to stop working as fast and he almost drops a piece of trash after a couple of moments. The clones point this out as well with the explanation that the nerves of humans are much weaker than Pinks & Blues which is why they needed to be monitored on a constant basis to ensure emotional safety. The two brothers continue, and the group walks off the scene.

Scene 3

Roman and Virginia are in the armory of the Valley, next to the courtyard. Roman starts talking about the society's need to find more energy sources aside from wind and water for electricity. Roman defends the system, though, and points to Lincoln and Suzanne's lives who were lookouts for the Valley. He tells how they are upstanding citizens. Virginia points out how the class of Suzanne's parents had caused historic terrible events when the infection-refinement and treatment facility shut down. Roman heeds her warnings and tells her that the new refinement programs will probably avoid the same casualties from happening again, with new safety measures. The King and Queen of the Valley, Roman and Virginia call the party to the court. Roman gives a speech about independence.

Act 2 Scene 1

Wyatt and Evan are on their way home when they are passing a strange building. They hear voices from inside, and pull out special spying equipment to listen in to the conversation inside. In the building, Pink & Blue have Lincoln and other Valley refugees held hostage. They are demanding to know the hideouts of the rest of the Valley people. Wyatt and Evan are briefly interrupted by a radio transmission from Matthew. Their sister Violet has uncovered some clues to where the Valley hideouts are in a place called Atlantis. He also mentions that the hive of the infection is located somewhere between Utopia and Atlantis. Back inside the building Pink & Blue begin executing hostages until Lincoln reveals the coordinates of the hideout.

Saturday, July 13, 2013

In the
early years of his life on Earth, Twyll Th’ ChyllTyrant was already hard at
work creating the stable foundations of poetic authorship as he competed with
other children in poetry finals in the Syracuse City School District. Yet it was out of his formal education that
his earned knowledge of music grew into a steadfast lifestyle as a musical
entrepeneur. His scholastic achievements
won him honor as a Magna Cum Laude graduate of Thomas J. Corcoran High School
in 2003, while at the same time strengthening his repertoire of
experience. Twyll Th’ ChyllTyrant as a
character was in fact, however, conceived at the age of 13 in John T. Roberts
K-8 School, while working with the concepts of music theory with a fellow
Syracusean who went by the name of Beam 5000.
Together Beam 5000 and Twyll Th’ ChyllTyrant formed the illfated group
Stereotypes in the late 90’s. His
sustainment in the rap genre was, after the friendship and group fell apart,
only held by his conference enitity in the formations of one of Upstate New
Yorks first breakdancing crews out of Jamesville-Dewitt High School, and his
participation in the artistic inspiration aspects of graffitti art.

Twyll
Th’ ChyllTyrant’s personal life however, took quite a hit, as the tolls of an
outlandishly extroverted appeal to society, as well as personal discontent due
to the use of drugs at a young age, landed him in the psyche ward of University
Hospital in Syracuse. His release from
which was conditional that he maintain a healthy diet and living habits so that
he would never go the same route again.
It was only months later though, that he was back to writing. At the same time, he would be returning to
the darkside, or underworld of the world that he lived in. Many people pushed or pursued him to
discourage his rapping, but to no avail as he soon collected three volumes of
poetry of which only the “Pathwork” collection has met the Library of
Congress’s copyright desk.

For the
first few months, Twyll Th’ ChyllTyrant would practice rapping with his two
main groups, Real Truth, and Three Fist Journalists, in freestyle cyphers and
in crudely fashioned recording sessions.
Three Fist Journalists, comprised of L.O.S. & Reaper would go on to continue
to make music with Twyll Th’ ChyllTyrant during his studio years, even as he
evantually changed his name to Tyrant.
From 2003 to 2004 Tyrant worked with these young rappers as he pushed
forward and progressed his rhyming skill.

After a
period of time, Tyrant met Ninj through his group Real Truth. Ninj were three rappers who together formed a
compact and versatile group that had performed in venues across New York. With the addition of Tyrant to their group,
they called themselves Real Ninj Truth. By
2005, Real Ninj Truth helped Tyrant jumpstart his mixtape career with the
release of “Close Range”, released alongside “The Nightmare”. The Syracuse hip hop scene, at the time, was
ill equipped to feature such a dangerous combination of talents, so the
releases went, for the most part, unheard.

It was
only one year later that Tyrant had gained enough esteem to be offered a spot
on a label roster, Steam Records founded by J.C. Gori. His contact with the label is limited, but
they’re input helped spawn both “The Raven”, & “Swag King”, as well as
“CollabZ”. At the same time as those
three limited mixtape releases, was the formation of Volyoom Team. Volyoom Team was Twyll Th’ ChyllTyrant’s
attempt at rock and roll crossover. The
“Team” of youngsters included three guitarists, one one-armed guitarist, one
bassist, and five back-up vocalists with Tyrant on lead vocal and
harmonica. They were arranged to be
performing the biggest set of the century with “I Love New York” of VH1 as the
guest host, when they were suddenly forced into Ninja Attack Mode when facing
certain conquest of pirate robotzombies, while playing Unreal Tournament in
Tyrant’s parents’ basement. While they
failed to attend the event, it should be noted that they did giftedly spot Wali
Wigz earlier that day while hackeysacking at Woodland Reservoir.

It
wasn’t until 2007 that The Crooked Empire entered Twyll Th’ ChyllTyrant’s
life. It began as he struggled with the
production of original material, when he was most lacking original beats, and
as his spread out groups began to form the conglomerate that would forever then
be known as The Crooked Empire. The
Criminal Era was the starting point.

if the pale moonlight wanders across the astonishment at last
and the balcony chair wanderers ever cross the lawn once more
if nowhere monsters churn their bones to the music of a nowhere
and the streetlamp flicks on our shadows' hair, shaded from a machine

give it some breath, some time, and our explanations will be recorded on diner napkins
we return the straws before we cut them...
whenever we forget
to let our tongues roll, eyes tip, and our ears must
be percussion instruments, because i heard you say it?

Let it die.
Let it stammer
at the altar, the chant.

if ever we sounded off the twilight reverie, to the ghosts
and the evening awoke to purple skies, the slumbersome guests
crazed and panting, we threw off our yellow to green hues, blended blue
we'd roll around the canvas and paint every inch of eisel

Let it live.
Let it give us new reason,
to be trespassers on the horizon.

O let it give in to the wistful,
the enchantment lost in the bubbles
Let it loosen it's grasp on reality,
the harsh and the bold let live.

O let it misunderstand every second,
let it forget us every minute:
it's not ours...it's yours.

I am reminded of the boredoms of an early night spent
outdoors with the ambitions of the youth grappling onto the last moments of
pre-ordination and curfew. The recitals
of ancient epitaph that resounded only a flash between that last flitting of
eyelids before unconsciousness settles into our complete focus.
There, in that epicenter when the sounds and emotions replace the visions and
memories of a cyclic world, is where the focus of our most complete
satisfactions can become manifested for our enticed pleasure to experience.

I had turned off the lights myself that night. It was an important event that I have now
only stumbled upon in a quick flash.
The symbolism of reaping the sewn, and the cleansing of our most private
sinews.
I came upon the comforts of my own bed that had been constructed or assembled
or otherwise produced by parents who stood always watching through invisible
windows.
There, on the blankets that would hold tight the pieces of my soul which
threatened to escape at such young age to a culling night-time reverie of
twilight stars and evanescent streetlamp glow.
Sharply did the blinds once throw limply approaching light outside, and so only
now did the dullness of a doldrums’ ponder across the sidewalk through maple
leafs usher away the spirits of night, for on one night’s long descent into
darkness was the fluorescence forgone.
The room I slept was so dark that only my own imagination could spread the sensory
of sight onto the shapes of the walls, and in this way was I in a boundless
room, without border or end.

“Mom,” I called into tomorrow, and darkly did my voice
resonate.

So, as the arms of a loved one spread the blind folds of
sheets over my chin, I could no longer speak the words that could follow across
my plunge into the abyss.

It was the moments between sleep and life, when I was
distinguishing the real apart from my realized fantasy, that struck the most
powerfully against the ambience. In this
time of helter skelter, in the reveries of immediate proximity that
reverberated, yet at the same time collapsed the reasoning of conscience amidst
conscious thought, as thoughts once entangled and emotions once withheld shrunk
with the falling mind and squeezed through escape routes to forgotten vaults in
the back of my brain.

The innocence of deep sleep was imminent.

Suddenly, the footsteps on the stairs awoke me.

Startled, I pulled my back up against the headboard and
shook off the covers from my face, like the undead rising from the grave and
with emotionless fear I peered deep into the black space.

When the door to my chamber opened, out protruded a face
like a bearded skeleton. The man that
entered was like an angel of distinct familiarity who would lead me through the
barren landscapes of dreams and reality.
He showed me the future and cried when I asked him of my own
demise. He wrung his hands and hung his
head and shamefully left, having felt as though nothing were accomplished
during his interview.

I was left alone, lonely, desperate for the last moment of
attention he had refused to spend.

Thus, I chased out the door for him into the hallway of my
house.

Down the hall I heard a typewriter or something. I heard the movements of many hands hushedly
writing the pages of a book about apocalypse.

I didn’t look down the stairs; instead I moved past them to
the end of the hall and walked past the railing as the howls and growls of some
unfathomed hound rose from the stairwell that Jesus had disappeared down.
Onward I began to lunge towards the knob of the door, and as soon as the absent
metal flushed my skin with a ghostlike touch of chill, the words stopped. I opened the door.

Inside the devil himself sat at long table with a manuscript
freshly printed.
The hounds on either side of him charged past me through the door. However, I showed no fear.
He had high top blond hair with slim features and eyes that looked dimly
through the air as though he was in need of eyeglasses. He wore a business suit.
And he promised that if I followed his words I would get the information that
Christ denied me.

I was haunted but persuaded.
I didn’t follow his words, but I made actions of my own that mimicked
his for a while.

I never awoke.

Instead I was catapulted back into the same reality that I
am today entrapped in.

Monday, April 01, 2013

Everything was done
The seventh day’s work was done, and so we rested
Everything in the seventh day was blessed
These are the stories of that day that made God
Before there was anything on Earth of God
There was a mist that rose from the ground
There was dust on the ground that grew into man of God
There was even a garden that man stood in against the signs of God
In the garden there were plants that represented the good and evil and food and beauty and life of God
A delta lead even from the garden
One river was Pishon leading to Havilah where there was gold
There was also bdellium and onyx
One river was Gihon leading to Cush
One river was Tigris leading to Asshur and one river was Euphrates
God made man take care of the garden
God said that man may eat anything in the garden
Man could only not eat the tree of good and evil and die
God said that man shouldn’t be alone and that he should need help
God showed man the animals and let him be named
Man named everything but himself
God took man’s body
God made woman from man’s body
So man said she was called Woman
In this way, a man leaves his mother and father and finds a woman to make unity
In love

Monday, October 01, 2012

two girls and a man search for an escape out of a shared dream where everyone falls asleep once and then stays unconscious for an immortal eternity. first, they must find out about each other, across continents, through spiritual journeys in which they rediscover their inner fears and demons by trying to capture a devilishly evil escape artist arch-nemesis and fight with a wild dragon king whose power is to teleport within eyesight to wherever it can see in light, and blow firebreath. the group then has to work together and race against time as they realize how they are all slowly disintegrating their own reality outside, bit by bit.

Friday, August 24, 2012

weren't North Koreans and Asians blowing up atomic weapons at the base of the ocean? oh... so where are these hurricane's coming from? that's climate control. the percent of reuseable natural resources is dwindling, and we need to be concerned with the damage to the climate caused by greenhouse effects on tectonic plates as well as glaciel impact, and in addition the fact that climate changes are soon to arise on schedule in the next 1000 years for a probable ice age... it's not important now to handle the population, it's time to unite and try to discover an escape route. that's my problem with 80% of the governments in the world, is their inability to cooperate with the general public with the ongoing efforts to expand our resources in ways that are only shown misinformatively on national broadcast. the middle and working class are as well controlled by the introduction of the new products and laws every year, and by overpopulation itself with the expanding of mass media into worldwide circulation. fun.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

If you were stranded on a desert island, with your newborn child, with only a slimming chance of rescue, and your baby started to die, would you eat it when it was dead or throw it in the ocean?

A man walks into a strip bar with a bag of dead babies. When the bouncer tells him to leave, he explains, "They are premies, so they're worth more."

If you and your last boss, your father, your wife, and your child were the last people left on Earth, trapped in an underground cave with just water in a pool, and inside the water was a squid that would be able to live far longer than you or your company, and possibly repopulate the world evantually with new species, would you just eat it to live a little longer, and then still die anyway?

A policeman pulls over his car next to a park and pulls his gun out on a squirrel. Squirrel says, "What did I do, officer?""You were trafficking."Same cop pulls over next to a fence on his way back to the station, with the squirrel in the backseat, and pulls his gun on another squirrel ontop of the fence. Squirrel says, "What did I do, officer?""You're tailgating me."Now, in the police station, a squirrel jumps out of the ceiling and pulls out a bomb."You're all nuts!"

Thursday, January 05, 2012

To understand the contrasts between The Democratic and Republican Parties, one should be just as concerned with the depth and continuity of the ideals held in each platform, separately, as well as comparitively. The importance of this analyzation of integrity is one that is often overlooked by the mere casual approach of many young uneducated Americans.

The ideas of men whose individual successes are fundamentally constructed to adhere to survival in all circumstances, are mainly tied into a variety of responsibilities and sponsorship of life. First, and foremost, as is easy to point out, money plays a major role in civilized survival. Money, representative of a person's worth, or reflective of environmental work availability, is a good indicator of most peoples' value to society. However, the unknown relationship of the person with his political standpoint is nonetheless valued as well as is his character and ability, heritage and intelligence. While these factors rarely come into play with elections of government officials, this may help explain why the two part system of Democratic/Republican exists.

The downside of bi-partison elections, as well as misleading people into non-interaction with their own government, is that the two parties are both plainly faulty and contradictory against each other as well as in their own terms.

This is why it is important to create a personally-manipulateable division of classes every taxyear to be reflected in votecount, to further encourage voter output as well as interaction within a democratic government. It is also important to get rid of the electoral college completely, to separate larger states into multiple states and increase statecount, and to assign more bill pass approval into the hands of the voters in America by allowing them to vote yes or no on all bills, and retiring the seat of President to a position of compiling bills into acts of two-three at a time for monthly voter-registration, and to passing or vetoeing emergency or military and armed forces bills only, or as directed out by clauses attached to each bill.

A teflon heart beats For a woman Never introduced Only seen from a distance And the attached lungs Stung with each gasping breath Rung out with the laundry Out for all to see My spirit still needs cleaning Just as my eyes seek My ears seek a soul A lonely guitar string is plucked And another one answers And another one so far away in my mind Until it's back to that first string But still... loneliness It creeps in Like dim light from a lamppost On a deserted lane Bound to reality Wishing retreat But every path has been followed And no brick road has been found A friend is forgotten He was my own And today is now Just what I am Forgotten Or forgetting slowly Until just a spec remains Spectacular love Escaping my tender needs Although my heart beats My love is woven from the softest cotton That stretches and bounces But never makes it out of the drawer Where it lays dormant and bored Boasting of times past I'm often reminded of my evil deeds And regret claws all over Until my eyes water And water falls Like Niagara My love needs a caretaker Like my heart needs a bullet But nothing will break But my spirit Tonight.

About Me

Willard Tyler Moulton, otherwise known as Twyll The ChyllTyrant, is the contributor to a generation gap known as freedom. He is the mastermind of many talents. Having been turned down and away from expressive outlets in the past, he decided that it was time to bring his ability to the public domain. Having a background in rap, poetry, and writing of all sorts, he is unafraid of any element or obstacle. The importance of literature as a creative medium was never lost on him, even as a young boy, and the grander depiction of authority through words was a mainstay throughout his troubled life. He is found in Syracuse, New York, the hometown that he never left, living off a careening lifestyle of depression, mania, and abuse. I quote:
"To a land that has withered under the lack of inspiration and creativity... You will come to know once and that will be forever... That on 3/18 a Monster was born. Turbulent as the nighttime in the blizzardy winter’s maelstrom. Tumultuous as the souls of the wicked who seek through the night a beacon of hope only to find the flashflies of the stars glowing out into infinity, disappear."